


Death's Silver Lining

by justtoarguewithyou



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherly Love, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Family Feels, First War with Voldemort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Minor Character Death, Multi, established wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27586064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justtoarguewithyou/pseuds/justtoarguewithyou
Summary: Wolfstar Games 2020Prompt: The communication of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living. - T. S. EliotTeam Sound
Relationships: Alice Longbottom/Frank Longbottom, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Sirius Black & Walburga Black, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 16
Kudos: 39
Collections: Wolfstar Games 2020





	Death's Silver Lining

Sirius woke up, sweat beaded on his forehead. He looked at the clock on the mantle, its blue radium face softly shining in the dark. It read 3:33 a.m.—the witching hour.

He took a deep, steadying breath; he had dreamed of Regulus.

He hadn’t seen his brother since his last year at Hogwarts, when they would pass each other in the halls, and on the enchanted stairways, always looking at each other from the corners of their grey eyes. Always words on their lips that they couldn’t say.

Sirius was alone in the house—Alphard’s house, now his house. Remus, who was between jobs again, had gone on some extended mission for the Order. He’d been gone for more than three weeks.

“Fucking Dumbledore,” Sirius said aloud, his voice raspy in the silent darkness.

Sirius knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again. Not without Remus. He had begun to sneak into Remus’s bed in their second year at Hogwarts when he couldn’t sleep. Now, it's hard to sleep alone.

Sirius needed him now. But he didn’t even know where Remus was; not since Dumbledore had let them each know privately that there was possibly a spy within the Order. He and Remus had once shared everything. Now they’d spent the last few months avoiding anything important, talking about nothing in particular.

The change made Sirius uncomfortable.

Sirius’s thoughts wandered between Remus and Regulus.

Sirius had always hoped that once Regulus came of age, Regulus would reach out to him, that they could be brothers again. Friends. Instead, he learned that Regulus had taken the Dark Mark. Sirius wondered if Regulus truly believed in Voldemort’s cause, or if this was just more of the same bullshit—his brother always going along with their father’s plans.

This wasn’t the first dream that Sirius had had of Regulus; they’d started three nights before. It was always the same dream: Regulus was underwater, his eyes open and unseeing. His lips moving with words that Sirius couldn’t hear, and couldn’t understand.

Sirius hadn’t been afraid of his brother. Often, he had reached out to touch Regulus, only to feel himself repulsed by some magic, or current. It was gentle, but inexorable. As try as he might, he could never get any nearer to him, couldn’t understand the words formed by his lips.

Sirius’s thoughts turned back to his dream. He knew from the wisdom of an old, spinster aunt that witching hour dreams usually meant death, and unfinished business. Sirius wondered if this was just conjecture—his brain making up reasons for his brother’s silence, or if Regulus really was trying to reach him from the beyond.

Sirius waved his hand, and a fire appeared in the grate. He poured himself a little of his uncle’s whiskey before rearranging himself underneath a throw on the leather couch, trying to recall the details of the dream. He tried not to focus solely on the otherworldly pallor of Regulus’s face. His milky eyes. His dark hair, floating out silently around him.

Sirius knew that sleep and death were cousins. He was almost never afraid of what he found there; his dreams were usually benign. But this felt different. This was more than just a dream.

As he thought, he found himself staring at the patterns painted into the small table in front of the couch. It was a French antique, rumored to have been secreted away from the summer palace of Louis XVI before it could be sold at auction.

The Blacks always did get what they wanted.

Sirius gave a half-smile over finding himself once again surrounded by priceless antiques and magical objects. Though most of his uncle’s things were far less sinister than anything in Grimmauld Place.

Alphard had died only weeks before, and left Sirius everything in his will. Alphard had always hinted he might, after Sirius had left his ancestral home at 16. Sirius would rather have his drafty rooms, and his uncle alive.

But no one could cheat Death. And Death had come for Alphard.

He’d seen his mother briefly at the internment. His father hadn’t attended. Neither had Regulus…

At least he was safe here. As good-natured as Alphard had been, he had still been a Black, and his home was unplottable, unnoticeable, and unconnected to the floo network. No one could apparate in. Even owls knew to release the letters rather than knock. The mail appeared in a charmed tray by the door.

Sirius had come that afternoon after receiving the key to his vault, and to the house from Gringotts. He hadn’t planned to stay that day, but he got caught up, looking through Alphard’s things: all his books, his record collection, which had rivaled Sirius’s own. He’d found a cache of letters from his mother, which he realized had been written in code. He had fallen asleep trying to decipher them.

This couch was much nicer than the couch he currently owned. When he moved in with Sirius, Remus had stubbornly insisted on paying his fair share, which often meant secondhand things. Not that Sirius cared, really. But after the luxury of Grimmauld Place, the Potter’s home, and the Gryffindor common room, it was hard to appreciate the humble virtues of a lumpy used couch.

It had been his first full moon apart from Remus since James and Lily got married. The four Marauders had lived together, sharing a two-bedroom flat. Peter had gone home to Reading, electing not to stay with them, as the sexual tension between Sirius and Remus had grown palpable.

The pair had fooled around a little in their seventh year at Hogwarts before deciding they didn’t want to risk their friendship. They’d both suppressed their jealousy when they started seeing other people. But last Valentine’s Day, the day of James and Lily’s shotgun wedding, and a very close call during a mission on Sirius’s part only days before, they decided it was now or never.

Sirius broke from his thoughts of their first feverish kisses with a shudder, feeling like someone had walked over his grave. Regulus didn’t have a grave, maybe. Regulus was somewhere else, floating.

Sirius tried to remember what water meant in dreams—usually it was to do with emotional states. Well, his brother might be dead; that was pretty emotional.

Sirius sighed. He didn’t know what Regulus had been trying to say.

He closed his eyes, thinking of Regulus’s lips, forming silent words, moving moving moving in the green water.

* * *

Sirius woke up on the couch as the sun rose.

He left, found a nearby alley, and apparated back to their flat. Remus was home—water was running in the bathroom. Sirius found him naked, waiting for the water to run warm.

Sirius didn’t say anything; he just knocked on the door so Remus would be alerted to his presence. Remus turned around, his face crumpling with emotion. Sirius held him close while testing the water with one hand, and helped Remus into the shower stall.

Sirius undressed quickly, and got in to wash Remus’s hair, and then his own, and then soaped them both up. Remus just stood shivering under the showerhead. Sirius pressed chaste kisses to his jaw, his neck, his fingertips.

Sirius took in Remus’s lanky frame, which had grown rangier during his absence. He guessed that Remus hadn’t gotten enough to eat during his time away.

Sirius suppressed a sigh.

When they were clean, Sirius filled the clawfoot tub with hot water and lavender and bergamot scented bath oil, and the two of them sat together, not speaking for several minutes. Remus leaned back, and rested on Sirius’s chest, wrapped in Sirius’s arms and legs.

After Sirius felt Remus let out three large sighs, a sign that Remus was ready to get out of the tub, he conjured two warm, fluffy towels, and dried Remus off and helped him into a robe.

Sirius magicked his hair dry, never trusting a towel—Sirius had always maintained an unhealthy vanity regarding his hair, which now grew down to his shoulder blades.

Once robed, he went to make Remus a cup of hot tea, with lots of sugar for shock. Because there was always shock to recover from these days.

“Fucking dark wizards,” Sirius mumbled to himself in the kitchen.

Sirius handed Remus the tea, and some buttered toast, and made him some eggs with a little cheese and tomato. He made more toast.

Sirius watched Remus eat. They spent a lot of time in silence these days. Some things were too hard to talk about. Too hard to think about.

“Okay?” was the only word Sirius said to Remus that morning.

Remus just nodded, and drank his tea.

Sirius took his plate to the sink, and then stood behind Remus’s chair, and reached out a tentative hand, placing it on Remus’s shoulder. Remus put his cup down, and turned, melting into Sirius’s body. Sirius held him close, scratching Remus’s scalp with his fingers.

Remus didn’t bother to ask where Sirius had been. If it was for the Order, he knew shouldn’t ask. And if not…he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

It was Sunday, and Sirius didn’t have to go to work. Instead, he led Remus to their room to nap, naked and warm in their bed. Remus held Sirius close, his face pressed into his neck, leg hitched up over Sirius’s thighs.

And as they slept, neither dreamed that one of their best friends was reporting to Voldemort.

* * *

Monday morning, Sirius woke Remus up with the usual full-frontal assault of kisses.

“Sirius…” Remus protested, sleepily. “I’m so tired.”

“I know,  _ mon cœur _ , but I have to work today, and I’ve missed you,” Sirius said, jumping up, and launching into his morning series of calisthenics and stretches he’d learned as a Beater on the Hogwarts quidditch team.

Remus rolled over, covering his face with his pillow.

“No, no, come on!” Sirius said, and gently prised out the pillow from his grip. He pulled Remus upright. “Come on. I’ll make you toad in the hole, and tell you a secret.”

Remus followed Sirius sleepily into the kitchen. He loved to watch Sirius cook. It was like watching a very competent, but overenthusiastic toddler. As messy and imprecise as he might be, Sirius was actually a very good cook.

As he charmed the sausages roasted, and a spoon stirred the batter, Sirius told Remus of Alphard’s death, and his inheritance.

As the ingredients combined, and turned golden brown, Sirius suggested they move in.

“Home is wherever you are,” Remus shrugged. Sirius hugged him, and they ate, and made plans to buy a new mattress.

“I’m going to rest some more, and then maybe look for jobs this afternoon,” Remus said.

“Maybe just rest today?” he said. “There’s plenty of breakfast left, and I’ll come home at lunch time with a couple curries and some naan?”

Remus smiled, and went back to bed, and Sirius spent the day filing paperwork. Being an Auror was not always exciting.

After work, Remus met Sirius at the entrance to the Ministry. Remus did this sometimes when he was working so they could sneak in a quick snog before his shifts.

It was his favorite thing—seeing Sirius walk out of the Ministry in his muggle clothes. Today, he was wearing jeans, his black leather jacket and black Doc Martens. His t-shirt was an old SEX t-shirt that Remus had found for him in the bin behind a charity shop, no doubt discarded for its lascivious message to “Beat Me, Bite Me” among other things.

Remus winked at Sirius as he approached, smiling a halfcocked, crooked smile.

“How do you get away with that? Wizards can read,” Remus said, stubbing out a cigarette.

“I told Moody it was a muggle cypher,” Sirius said, running his left pinky down Remus’s right hand. Just a small gesture of love. They had to be careful in muggle London.

“Are you hungry?” Sirius asked.

“I’m always hungry.”

“Come on then, I’ll buy you some fish and chips,” Sirius said.

There was a stand near Diagon Alley. They ate, and then Sirius bought them a very nice mattress, which he carried home, its weight pulling down his jacket pocket. They stopped to restock at the apothecary, and bought a few groceries, and then they went to their new home.

After Sirius performed a couple complex spells, Remus could now open the door with the key Sirius had made. He left Remus to explore while he moved their books and records in. Sirius didn’t mind, knowing Remus was always very tired after the full moon.

He put their things away, and made them tomato soup and cheese toasties. Remus was curled up on the couch with a few of Alphard’s books.

Sirius brought their dinner over on a tray, and settled in with Remus on the comfy couch. He nuzzled his neck until Remus couldn’t ignore him anymore.

Remus put the book down.

“Time for another snack,” Sirius said. “I don’t know where you were, but I know they didn’t feed you much.”

Sirius softly touched the sliver of space between Remus’s lower ribs. Remus closed his eyes. He hadn’t eaten much while he was away. The wolf had been in a predatory mood, and Remus had woken up covered in blood, having hunted rabbits in the moonlight. Remus kept that to himself, though, as they ate. Another silent meal.

That night they fell asleep easily in their new bed, and Sirius dreamed of Regulus again.

He dreamed about him the night after, and the night after that.

Every time, Regulus was agitated. His words were more insistent. His lips were moving faster and faster, the water blurring around his mouth.

“I can’t fucking hear you!” Sirius thought, finally, in immense frustration.

Suddenly, Regulus’s milky eyes came into focus, and Sirius heard Regulus call: “Sirius.”

Sirius gasped awake, tears in his eyes. It was three a.m. again, and Regulus’s voice echoed in his mind.

Remus’s eyes snapped open. He’d always slept like the dead when they were children. But these days, when danger lurked in the dark, Remus would wake at the slightest sound.

“You all right?” Remus asked groggily, rubbing his eyes.

“I dreamed of Regulus,” Sirius said.

“Regulus?” Remus asked, looking incredulous.

“Yes. Tonight he said my name.”

Remus looked confused.

Sirius let out a breath. “I’ve been dreaming of him every night for about a week. He never says anything. He’s trapped somewhere, and I can’t get near him. He’s been trying to tell me something, but I could never understand him. But tonight, he said my name.” 

Remus frowned. He’d never given much thought to the more imprecise branches of magic—divination, spirit boards, autowriting, dreams. But it seemed to him that no matter where Regulus was, he had a message.

Remus coaxed Sirius back under the blanket, and stroked Sirius’s back until he was relaxed and drifting back to sleep.

In the morning, Remus woke up and made their tea and toast. He brought it back to bed on a tray.

“Don’t get up,” he said. “It’s Friday. Skive off, and let’s stay in today. We haven’t had any real time together in weeks. The war just seems to take and take.”

Sirius sighed—the war had taken plenty. He had just turned 21; muggles his age were at university, or working so they could go dancing on Friday nights, or get pissed in pubs. Instead, he and Remus had spent the last few years dodging curses and spying on Slytherins.

They had managed to have some fun, though, because you can’t be fresh out of Hogwarts, fighting a war, and living in muggle London without it happening occasionally. Sirius still wasn’t sure how their friends had children. Harry and Neville. Both born in July. Both only a few months old.

“It’s just a half day. I’ll be done at noon,” Sirius said with a smile, still thinking of the babies. “Let’s visit the Longbottoms and the Potters today after work. Just for a little while.”

“Really?” Remus said, pouting a little, having had other activities in mind.

“Yes,” Sirius said, gently biting Remus’s lower lip. “We could all do with a cheerful visit. No one’s unhappy when there’s babies to cuddle. I’ll cuddle you after.”

Remus smiled. It always gave him a little unnamable thrill to see Sirius gently holding Neville or Harry.

“Are we visiting Peter, too?”

“No,” Sirius said firmly.

“Why not? Why are you fighting with Peter now?”

Sirius sighed. “It’s stupid really…”

“Just…tell me,” Remus said, scrubbing his face with his hands, ready for it to be a truly stupid reason—the last time they had argued and didn’t speak for weeks, they had been fighting about the English Quidditch team’s chances at the World Cup. The time before that, they had argued over which variety of grass the Bertie Bott’s grass-flavored jelly beans really taste like.

“While you were gone, he tried to hint that you and Benjy Fenwick had been getting rather close while I was away last.”

“He what?” Remus said, widening his eyes. “Why would he say something like that?”

Sirius shrugged. “I don’t know. He seemed to be trying to get me to confide in him about where I’d been, why I was gone for so long. And when I wouldn’t tell him, he got more and more…you know how he gets. He’s like a gossipy old lady, just… hints and insinuations, baiting you into telling him something. It’s gotten worse.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but knew Sirius wasn’t wrong.

“Peter’s always been observant,” Remus said. “He’s always known more about everyone’s goings-on than anyone else. But lately, he just seems desperate to know everything.”

Sirius nodded and continued. “When I asked why it was important, he said that you had been flirting with Benjy, and he thought I should know.”

Remus let out an incredulous huff.

“But Peter didn’t know—and I didn’t tell him—that I’m fairly certain that Benjy and Emmeline are…” Sirius waggled his eyebrows.

“How do you know that?” Remus asked, liking a little bit of gossip himself. It made him feel like they were still in school, when the only thing they had to worry about was who fancied who, and which of the broom closets would be occupied.

Sirius laughed. “I saw them one night when we were all at Fabian and Gideon’s.”

“You did not.”

“I didn’t look long, but I couldn’t have been mistaken.”

They laughed, and it felt so good.

“But still, why would Peter say something like that?” Remus looked puzzled.

“Who knows? Maybe he was trying a little reverse psychology,” Sirius said, using a phrase Remus had learned from his mother.

Remus frowned, not quite sure he bought the explanation. “Well, can we cuddle a bit before you go to work?”

“Always,” Sirius said, roping him into a bearhug, letting go when Remus was breathless and panting. Sirius grinned, and kissed Remus’s temple. They indulged in lazy kisses until the last possible second. Sirius ate his toast in the floo.

* * *

The pair hadn’t seen the Longbottoms or the Potters socially in weeks. Before the children were born, it had been easier. But now there were nappies to change, and disrupted sleep schedules. Order meetings, jobs, and secret missions.

Frank and Alice had been a couple of years ahead of them at Hogwarts, but they both liked Alice, who was fierce, smart, and kind. Sirius and Frank got along like a house on fire, and Frank had taken Sirius under his wing at the Ministry.

Sirius especially liked Frank’s mother, Augusta, who dressed like it was 1880, and not 1980. The Longbottoms all lived together in the Longbottom family home. Augusta watched Neville while Frank and Alice worked.

Sirius came home, and insisted on driving his motorbike, which wasn’t Remus’s favorite mode of transportation. But he gave in when Sirius pouted out his bottom lip, and made puppy dog eyes.

Augusta was the one who opened the door, wand in hand.

“Sirius,” she said. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Hello, Remus.”

She smiled as Remus held up some honey cakes and a bottle of giggle water, an old-fashioned American liquor that Sirius especially liked. It was bubbly, and just slightly sweet.

“We thought you could use some company,” Sirius said, wrapping the elderly lady in a warm hug. The giggle water had been his idea. He loved seeing what he could get away with where Augusta was concerned. He thought of her not unlike Minerva McGonagall: a smart and formidable woman with a surprising sense of humor.

Augusta smiled and invited them in. Frank and Alice were sitting in the parlor with Neville, who was on his stomach on a quilt on the floor. He was crying.

“Mum wanted to see if he could crawl yet,” Frank explained, while Alice looked slightly murderous.

“He’ll show his magic when he’s good and ready,” Alice muttered as she hugged Remus hello. Remus gave her a commiserating look; they both knew how Augusta could be.

Sirius swept in and picked up Neville off the floor. “Poor lamb. Don’t cry. We won’t let that mean old biddy bully you anymore.”

Sirius stuck his tongue out at Augusta, and blew a raspberry. He was the only one who could get away with that. Augusta just looked at them both fondly and went to make sandwiches for lunch.

They ate and talked, and even took a couple of shots of giggle water—Augusta breaking out into a girlish laugh that surprised even Frank.

After hugging everyone goodbye, they rode to the Potter family home where James and Lily lived, and Sirius had stayed after fleeing his own family. Sirius grinned as Remus gripped him tightly from behind, resting his head on Sirius’s back.

Sirius knocked on the door.

“Sirius! Remus!” Lily said, as she dragged them inside, stowing her wand away. “James! Look who’s here!”

James came in with Harry, who was crying after a diaper change.

“Hello, lads!” James exclaimed, tickling Harry under his chin. “Look who’s here, Harry! It’s your favorite dog.”

Sirius swept in and bearhugged James.

“Sirius wanted to visit. I hope that’s okay,” Remus said. “We brought cake, and giggle water.”

Lily smiled. “Oh, giggle water! I haven’t had that since seventh year. Do you remember, James?”

“Yes, it was our first date, and you dared me to drink it.”

“You sounded just like Mickey Mouse,” Lily said, and Remus laughed.

“Who?” Sirius asked, with a furrowed brow.

Lily just waved him off, and they went into the kitchen, Lily holding Remus’s hand, and Sirius hugging James from behind, and the pair of them walking in tandem.

They drank and laughed, and marveled over Harry, who at 5 months old was coming into his looks. He had two little bottom teeth coming in, and had bright green eyes that liked to follow an old Snitch that James would play with.

While Sirius and James played with Harry on the floor, whispering to each other, Lily and Remus gossiped on the couch.

“Sirius said that Benjy and Emmeline…”

“Oh, that’s old news,” Lily said.

“What? How did I not know?” Remus said, eyes wide.

Lily laughed. “Stop cavorting with werewolves and you’d know a lot more…”

Remus sighed, and Lily leaned in to hug him. That she had guessed what he’d been up to for the Order didn’t surprise him. What else could he do? Or rather, what else would Dumbledore let him do, he thought bitterly.

“Are you going to look for another job soon?” Lily asked.

She knew Remus usually worked nights, preferring to work in muggle restaurants and pubs. No one cared about his irregular hours there. He was always willing to pick up shifts, so his coworkers would cover his three days off at the full moon. No one really asked questions, since he was friendly, and always willing to help out.

“Sirius doesn’t want me to. Says I should rest awhile.”

“Well, he’s not wrong. You look skinny and tired.”

“I am skinny and tired.”

Lily summoned some crisps from the kitchen, opening the bag to share with Remus. They were cheese and onion flavored, which Lily had taken to while pregnant with Harry. While they snacked, Remus told Lily what Peter had said, and Lily told him that Marlene also thought Peter was being more persistent than he’d ever been.

“Marlene wondered if he’d been imperiused, it was so bad,” Lily said quietly. “Peter’s changed.”

“We’ve all changed. There’s been a lot of near misses,” Remus said, just as quietly, thinking of Caradoc. Caradoc had never been the same after an attack at a muggle warehouse.

Neither wanted to think much more about it, and went to lay on the floor with James, Sirius and the baby.

* * *

That night, Sirius had the dream again. But this time, Regulus looked relieved.

“Sirius,” Regulus smiled.

Sirius didn’t panic this time. “Can we go somewhere dry?” he thought.

They found themselves in Regulus’s childhood bedroom in Grimmauld Place.

“Better?” Regulus asked, sitting on his narrow twin bed. He still looked as though he were in the water, his hair floating out around him, his movements languid and murky.

“Drier,” Sirius said, with a laugh. “At least for me.” He was sitting at the chair in front of Regulus’s desk.

“Regulus…are you…?”

“Dead?” He hummed an affirmative.

Sirius whistled a low note. “Regulus, I….”

Regulus nodded sadly and looked away. “Sirius, the war is going badly.”

“It’s war. How else can it go?”

They looked at one another.

“How are you here? Are you a ghost?”

“No, I don’t think I’m a ghost,” Regulus said. “But you know what Aunt Cursa always said.”

“She said these dreams meant unfinished business. That’s what this is, right? This is real? Not just a dream.”

“This is my unfinished business, yes,” Regulus said. “And this isn’t just a dream, Sirius.”

Sirius looked at his brother, who was suddenly in front of him. Regulus reached out his hand, floating through the air, the water, to touch Sirius’s cheek. Sirius felt his brother’s hand, more like a warm pressure, and was suddenly engulfed in a complete and total sadness.

“I don’t know how long I can stay. I know I have to go on, though. I can’t be a ghost, because I couldn’t stay with you. And I won’t stay in that place.”

“Where are you?”

“I have things to tell you. But I’m not sure how this works,” Regulus continued, ignoring Sirius’s question.

Suddenly Sirius woke up sobbing—the confirmation of his brother’s death was too much.

Remus’s eyes snapped open, and he rolled over to hold Sirius. Sirius stuffed his fist into his mouth, trying to muffle the sound. He stood up, preferring to feel the hardwood beneath his feet. He paced, and Remus watched him carefully.

“Dream again?”

“It wasn’t just a dream,” Sirius stuttered. “He’s dead. He’s…fuck, I have to try to go back.”

Sirius got back into bed, and took deep breaths and Remus smoothed his hair, and murmured soothingly into his ear. He tried to stay awake, but fell back asleep after an hour or so. Sirius slept fitfully. The dream didn’t come again that night.

* * *

Sirius’s dreams were his own the next two nights.

Sirius went to work, met Remus in Diagon Alley for lunch, then home to watch television. The next night, they met Gideon and Fabian and got drunker than Sirius should have. He was very hungover at work, bolstered only by the greasy breakfast Remus had made him.

Sirius kissed Remus when got home. “Your breakfast saved my life.”

“I’m glad I’m good for something around here,” Remus said quietly.

Sirius knew it ate at Remus not to have a job. “Firstly, you do me a lot of good. Secondly, do you want me to put your application in for translations?”

The Ministry paid per page for translations of archaic texts. Remus had the necessary NEWT levels, but needed three additional letters of recommendation because he was a werewolf. His hiring would always be conditional. Sirius had already requested the letters, which had arrived just before Remus had left for his mission.

“We both know they won’t hire me,” Remus said.

“Well, let’s try anyway. It would be nice, your working from home. We could…”

Remus stopped Sirius from arguing with a kiss. Fiercer than he might have usually kissed him, because this particular argument always roused Remus’s dormant temper. The wolf growled softly into Sirius’s ear.

“All right, I know you won’t take my money,” Sirius whispered, wincing when Remus nipped his earlobe. “I just want to help you find something easier on you.”

Sirius squeezed Remus’s hand, and they dropped the subject.

When Regulus came that night, Sirius found themselves in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. It was empty, though the candles were lit, and the stars were shining on a clear night on the ceiling.

Regulus walked through the air, through the water, toward Sirius, who was sitting on the stool used for the Sorting ceremony.

“Do you remember? I was almost a hat stall,” Regulus said.

“Yes. Did the Hat try to put you in Gryffindor, too?” Sirius smiled. At 12, he would’ve given anything for Regulus to be in Gryffindor with him.

Regulus smiled. “No. Hufflepuff. But we argued about it because I didn’t want things to be worse for you at home. I knew  _ Papa _ would blame you somehow if I weren’t in Slytherin.”

Sirius’s eyes widened. His brother, a Hufflepuff?

“The hat said it made a lot of sense: I was kind, considerate of others. The cunning and the protectiveness of one’s own were Slytherin traits. But you were the only one I wanted to look out for. So, I argued with the hat, and after a while, it agreed to put me in Slytherin.”

“That’s such a Hufflepuff thing to do.” Sirius gave an incredulous laugh.

“The hat thought so, too.” Regulus said with a watery shrug. “On nights when things felt so unbearable in the Slytherin common room, I’d remind myself that I didn’t belong there. But, the Slytherin part of me decided to learn as much as I could about what Lucius and the rest were up to. Besides, it pleased  _ Papa _ .”

Regulus paused, and looked at his brother carefully. “You should know: he’s dying.”

Sirius tensed. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to say the “Good riddance” that had risen to his lips.

“Sirius,” Regulus said, putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder, “You should see  _ Papa _ before he dies. Our parents weren’t perfect. You don’t have to forgive him—not if you don’t want to, but you should give him the chance to ask, even if he can’t ask out loud, for his own peace. And yours, too.”

Sirius just nodded. He decided not to argue with Regulus about their parents just being “not perfect.” As far as Sirius was concerned, that was an incredible understatement.

Sirius had only recently stopped being completely rageful with his parents after a drunken night of talking with Alphard shortly before his death. Alphard had helped him understand that his parents, especially his mother, had been put into an impossible situation because of family obligations and traditions.

“Is this your unfinished business, then? Getting me to forgive  _ Papa et Maman _ ?” Sirius asked.

“No. Just something I’m beginning to understand as I get ready to leave,” Regulus said.

The sadness came again, and Sirius tried to fight the urge to wake. But his heartbreak was too strong. He found himself awake in the dark, tears streaming down his cheeks. He wiped at his tears with the back of his hand before wrapping his arm around Remus’s waist, and pressing his face to his neck.

As he matched Remus’s slow, quiet breathing, he thought about his parents and his childhood. He soon fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

During the day, between Auror office debriefs and report writing, Sirius thought a lot about his brother, and how they all ended up fighting a war against someone who didn’t care about the cost. To Sirius, that was the most insidious thing about their enemy. Voldemort had taken his brother from him. More people would die.

The Order had been lucky so far, there had been casualties, but no deaths. The Death Eaters and Voldemort hadn’t made too many big moves.

Sirius knew their luck wouldn’t hold forever. No one’s did.

Voldemort seemed content for now to accumulate power from the shadows. The Daily Prophet hadn’t puzzled the pieces together, and Dumbledore’s address to the Wizengamot hadn’t made any real waves.

Gridelwald had been a more obvious enemy, with his symbolism, rallies and divisive rhetoric. Voldemort had done none of those things. But Sirius and the rest knew something was coming. No one did this for no reason. And Sirius knew it was only a matter of time before Voldemort made his power grab more public.

Sirius wondered morbidly what would happen to him if he died.

He shivered, taken aback by the sudden question: what would happen to Remus? He decided to go to Gringotts immediately after work. He never thought he’d be making a will at 21; but he felt like an idiot for not having made one sooner.

When he was finished, he bought Remus an absurd amount of chocolate.

“What’s all this?” Remus asked, looking suspiciously at the boxes of truffles and chocolate bars, and various biscuits.

“Don’t be angry,” Sirius said, holding his hands out.

Remus rolled his eyes. “Never a good start, love.”

“I made a will today. You’ll get everything I have in the event of my death.”

Remus sighed. “I don’t need to make a will. Everything I own is here. My money is in a shoebox in the closet. I’ll show you, if you like.”

Sirius watched as Remus unwrapped a chocolate bar with brazil nuts, holding a piece between his thumb and forefinger. Remus let it melt before licking it off his fingers.

Sirius caught Remus’s hand, kissing his palm before kissing his chocolate-covered lips. The war might be going badly, but they still had this moment together.

* * *

A few nights later, Sirius found himself in Regulus’s room in Grimmauld Place.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about you,” Sirius said, the first to speak this time.

Regulus just looked at him, waiting.

“Do you remember what I would call you when you were little?”

“ _ Cœur de lion _ ,” Regulus said at once.

“Yes. That’s always how I thought of you. The heart of Leo. The heart of this lion, right here.”

Regulus just smiled. If he’d been alive, he might have teased his brother for saying something so sentimental. But he wasn’t alive. Instead, he said, “As much as I wish it could have been different, it wasn’t so bad. I think you and I loved each other very much, in the ways that we could.”

“I wish I’d tried harder,” Sirius said.

“Well, it was enough to see you when you did try,” Regulus said, thinking of the nights Sirius would appear late at night in the Slytherin common room, hiding in the shadows behind one of the tapestries, until everyone but Regulus had gone to bed. Sirius had found a secret passage that led to the Slytherin common room in his first year, telling the rest of the Marauders it would be useful for pranks. Sirius didn’t appear often, maybe only a handful of times each year that they had been in school together.

The brothers smiled at each other, and Sirius got up to give Regulus a hug—crushing, too long, and perfect. Sirius expected to feel wet. But instead, hugging his brother felt like he was pushing the same polar ends of two magnets together; he felt that same soft unavoidable push away.

Sirius sighed, and leaned into the push, resting on it.

“Did I ever tell you about Remus?” Sirius asked, straightening up after a while.

“That you’re in love with him? No, you never mentioned it,” Regulus said with a smile.

“Then…”

“I’m not an idiot. You doted on him your seventh year,” Regulus said with a laugh. “It made for a lot of malicious talk in the Slytherin common room. I hoped nothing I ever said reached you, but I knew you understood how it was for me.”

Sirius nodded. They had talked one night, wandering the castle together, looking for new places to put on the Marauder’s Map. It didn’t matter to them what they had to say to others. They knew what they said to each other when they were alone. It had been like that at home, too.

Regulus looked at his brother for a long time, and finally said, “I think what matters most during our time on earth are our choices, just these little things that make up the big ones. Think about it: if  _ Maman _ hadn’t married  _ Papa _ — _ Grand-mére Elodie _ could’ve chosen another marriage contract. If  _ Papa _ had chosen to be kind to her, instead of indifferent. If he had chosen to be kind to us…”

Sirius was quiet.

“I can look at it all now, all these little threads making up the rope binding us all together. Think on it.”

Sirius nodded.

“Do you regret your choices? Do you regret taking the Dark Mark?”

“I don’t,” Regulus said firmly. “I know you think I only did this to appease  _ Papa _ . Maybe I did a little, but it also meant that I have learned things, and set my own plans in motion. There are so many pieces to this puzzle, Sirius.

And worse things in this life than death. It was worse for me when we were little, and I felt powerless. It was worse for me when we were in school and I couldn’t talk to you whenever I wanted. You have to admit, this is nice.”

Sirius just smiled, and shook his head. “You really are a Hufflepuff, finding a silver lining even in death.”

Regulus laughed, and Sirius’s dreams shifted.

* * *

Over the next few days, Remus noticed that Sirius was incredibly deliberate when it came to making decisions. And not just big things, but with the little things, too. Sirius seemed to weigh each choice with a gravity that Remus had never seemed before. Sirius had always been so impulsive. Just went from one decision to the next without thinking, without fear.

Remus wondered what changed.

“Sirius,” Remus said, his concern evident in his tone.

Sirius looked up.

“What’s going on with you?” Remus asked, his brow furrowed with concern and amusement.

“What do you mean?”

“It just took you ten minutes to decide what record to put on,” Remus moved to sit on the floor with Sirius. “Does this have to do with your missions? Or with Regulus? Tell me more about your dreams,  _ mon ciel etoile _ .”

Sirius smiled—the French nicknames were his favorite. He leaned into Remus’s side, his hand tracing the scars on Remus’s ankle. “ _ Mon loulou _ , my brother is a troublemaker. He said he belonged in Hufflepuff and that I should go home to see our dying father.”

Remus stiffened.

“He also said that our choices are important,” Sirius said. “So, I’ve been thinking more about mine.”

Sirius leaned into Remus’s side. “I choose you.”

“I choose you, too.”

Remus wove their fingers together.

“Regulus said that I should give my father the chance to ask for forgiveness, even if he can’t say it out loud,” Sirius said thoughtfully. “You know, I always thought my parents would bar me from the house. But Regulus said they hadn’t.”

Remus was quiet, not knowing if he should give his opinion. But he didn’t have to guess, because Sirius asked for it.

“Well,” Remus said. “I think that if I have it in me to forgive you, then you might have it in you to forgive your father.”

Sirius winced. Sirius had grown a lot since their fateful sixth year full moon when his heedlessness and thoughtlessness had almost cost him Remus’s friendship and love. It had almost cost him James and Peter’s, too.

Then, Sirius suddenly cupped Remus’s face in his hands. “I miss you. I hate this.”

“What do you mean? I’m right here.”

“No, we used to talk about everything. Now, because there might be a spy, we don’t talk at all. I don’t know where you’ve been. I don’t know who you see. For all I know, Peter was right, and you are very fond of Benjy…”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Shut it, you.”

“Remus. Will you tell me everything? Where you go, what you do? And I will tell you, too. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep secrets from you anymore. I can’t.”

Remus sighed. They’d had this conversation often enough over the past few months. Sirius hated the secrecy lately imposed on Order members—he’d had enough secrecy growing up in Grimmauld Place.

“Fine,” Remus said softly. He couldn’t do this anymore either. He was tired. “You’ve probably guessed that Dumbledore has sent me to seek out others with lycanthropy, to see if we can’t get any of them to join us, to leave Greyback and you know... I’ve made some progress, but it’s impossible when the Order can’t promise anything real. It’s a losing battle. I have some friends, some people who are interested, but it’s just a small group, and most seem to be hedging their bets. It’s a waste of fucking time.”

Sirius traced his thumb over Remus’s knuckles.

“He has me following Death Eaters. I spend my most of my time following fucking Snape around as he skulks about London. You know, he follows Lily and Harry to the park sometimes. Never talking to them, never getting near them. But he keeps tabs on them.”

“He always did have a soft spot for Lily.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “He’s obsessed.”

Remus knew Sirius would go on for hours about Snape if he let him. But Remus didn’t want to talk about Snape; never wanted to think about him again, if he were honest.

“What else?” Remus asked, not realizing how relieved he would feel now that they were finally confiding in each other after all these weeks of dancing around their missions and purposes.

“I’ve followed McNaire, Avery. They’re into some very dark things. I follow Lucius Malfoy sometimes. But Lucius never gets his hands dirty, at least, not while I’m watching. That smarmy git. I bet  _ he’s _ the reason I didn’t get an invitation to my cousin’s wedding last year…”

Remus tuh’ed at him, and Sirius gave a little laugh and continued. “Bellatrix is still a lethal bitch. James is tired of inaction after their last mission. He’s itching to get back into the action, but Lily was adamant that James gives his injuries time to heal. That was the second time they’d escaped with their lives. Lily is plying him with sex. But you can only have sex so many times before it loses its appeal, James says.”

Remus smiled. It had been weeks since they’d had sex, real sex, not just a quick and dirty hand job in the minutes before falling asleep after long days at work.

Remus straddled Sirius. “You want to see how long it would take before it lost its appeal?”

Sirius’s grey eyes darkened as his pupils dilated with sheer want.

Remus kissed Sirius roughly, all tongues and teeth, and then rubbed his face on Sirius’s stubble, crying out a little at how good it felt to scrape his cheek against Sirius’s jaw.

Sirius groaned, inching his hands along Remus’s back and thighs.

“Fuck,” Sirius breathed. “I might not last. It’s been too long.”

“It has, I’m sorry,” Remus agreed, kissing his neck. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. Don’t be sorry,” Sirius said, looking into Remus’s eyes. “Never be sorry. We’re here. Be with me now.”

Remus moaned softly, as Sirius took charge of the situation; Remus ever pliant beneath his lips and hands. Sirius bit his neck and Remus groaned in absolute pleasure. He’d missed this.

The first time was over in a matter of minutes, there on the living room floor. The second time, Sirius took Remus into their bedroom and drew out the experience to the edge of ache, which he did with great skill and care. Then they slept, and woke up ravenous. They ate, and kissed languidly, and forgot about the war, their friends, and the danger.

They forgot about everything except each other. They didn’t leave their nest, didn’t go to the Order meeting that night, didn’t answer any of the frantic notes that appeared in the charmed tray near the door.

They were finally brought back to the present when James sent them a Howler: “What the fuck are you up to? Unless, of course, that’s what you’re up to…” The letter winked at them before bursting into flames.

Sirius was about to send one right back, telling him to fuck off when Remus stopped him from applying the charm.

“Harry’s probably asleep.”

Sometimes, Sirius thought Remus really would’ve made the better godfather. They smiled at each other, and Sirius sent off his owl, and they went to the kitchen to scrounge for snacks.

* * *

The Black brothers stood in front of their mother’s family tapestry.

“Ugh,” Sirius looked at the wall with distaste. “I see she’s erased me.”

Regulus hummed. “She did that the night you ran away. She didn’t yell, or cry. Just burned the hole with the tip of her wand, and went up to her room for the rest of the evening.  _ Papa _ and I ate dinner alone.”

Sirius stuck his tongue out at the burnt-out hole, at his mother. Regulus laughed and shook his head. The night he left, Sirius had just had enough—enough of his mother’s coldness and passive aggression, enough of his father’s demanding and exacting expectations, their disappointment.

Regulus knew his brother had to leave, and did his best not to hold it against him in life. But it made things harder at home, and at school.

“Sirius, do you know where the star names come from?”

Sirius shrugged. He’d never cared.

“They come from the Middle East. A 16 th century Black sailed his own merchant ship, and fell in love with an astronomer. She brought the names.”

Sirius laughed, thinking of all the pureblood bullshit his family loved. “ _ ’Tourjours pur’ faire foutre _ …”

Regulus shrugged. “That wasn’t our motto until about the 1800s when the family came to England. I think they just meant that we should keep our traditions. I don’t think it had anything to do with pureblood ties at all, like  _ Papa _ claimed. Otherwise, how would we have managed to stay so smart and good-looking? Bella’s unfortunate, but that branch of the family has always been a little…you know.”

Regulus wrinkled his nose, and Sirius pursed his lips. He did know.

“Do you remember how awkward Samhain dinners were with father’s family?” Regulus asked.

“Yes, _ Maman _ hated Aunt Cursa, thought she took her name too literally—Orion’s footstool. She waited on  _ Papa _ hand and foot, and criticized mother’s every move.”

“Do you remember what she said about us?”

Sirius laughed bitterly. “She said that we’d be the death of our father. That we were ill-behaved, spoiled and feckless. Though I think she was mostly talking about me.”

Sirius recalled the cursed note he’d received from his aunt on his 17 th birthday. Thankfully, he hadn’t opened it at the table in the Great Hall. Instead, he’d stuffed it into his bag, which had burst into flames in the middle of potions class three hours later. Dumbledore himself removed what was left of his things, and Professor Slughorn had him drink a very potent protection potion as a precaution in case the curse had affected him when he touched it.

The boys laughed at the memory.

“I think the last thing she ever said to me was that I should take to scourging myself while contemplating my terrible behavior,” Sirius said with tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. “Why are we talking about the family anyway?”

“Because, Sirius. I’m dead. But you’re not. Our family was a lot of things. But its legacy is different now, because of our choices. Yours, and mine.”

“Regulus, please…tell me about your choices, and how you ended up where you are.”

“No. Not yet. I will, though, before I leave.”

They looked at each other. Regulus smiled. “Don’t be ashamed, Sirius, that you are a Black. The thing to remember is that our family has always been a lot of things. And as much as we’ve steeped ourselves in darkness, which is a fairly recent development, we’ve liked the knowing for much longer. Go home. Go to the library. There are books there written about things that can help you understand what you’re up against.

There are books there, too, that will tell you more about the family, and the good we’ve done. Not all of our relatives were self-absorbed sycophants.

Kreacher can sneak you in and out, if you don’t want to see our parents. You can order him to not tell. They never gave Kreacher orders about not letting you back into the house, or that he could disobey you. That should tell you something.”

Sirius sighed. “I’ll think on it.”

“But hopefully not too long.  _ Papa _ is very ill, and the war is going badly, Sirius.”

* * *

Marlene was the first of their friends to die.

She had been ambushed on a mission in Cornwall. Dorcas and Caradoc had gone with her. No one knew what they were doing there. Well. Dumbledore knew. But he wasn’t telling.

Dorcas had fainted when Caradoc broke the news to Aberforth. Caradoc sent a message to Marlene’s brother Neil, and the two of them went to find Marlene’s body. When Caradoc came back for Dorcas, so they could take Marlene home, she wouldn’t speak. Dorcas, who had always been the quickest to laugh, who always had the dirtiest jokes, and the filthiest stories, hadn’t made a sound.

Marlene’s mother, Mary, was a muggle, and wanted to lay her daughter out in the parlor so their family and friends could come pay their respects. Dorcas had helped Mary wash Marlene’s body, and had wrapped Marlene in her shroud herself. Mary had let Dorcas do it so she could say her goodbyes privately.

Dorcas still hadn’t cried.

Neil McKinnon sat with Dorcas, and held her hand. He didn’t have the words either.

His mother was gracious when Sirius and Remus had visited to pay their respects. They tried to coax Dorcas to eat, or to sleep. Dorcas hadn’t done much of either. Lily and James had come with food, and Gideon and Fabian had come with alcohol. Peter hadn’t come at all.

The night before the burial, Sirius had gone home to bed, and Remus decided to stay a while longer. When they were alone, Dorcas finally spoke.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she said. “They’ll bury her, and my heart will be in that fucking coffin, too.”

“Dorcas…” Remus whispered, his eyes filling with tears.

“Do you ever think about it? About Sirius dying? Or your dying?” Dorcas asked. “Because I’ll admit—I thought of it, when the first of us got hurt, and this whole bloody thing became so fucking real. That night that Amelia almost lost her arm, splinching herself so badly when she’d nearly gotten caught by Rosier. And I always thought, I’ve always hoped every time that I let myself think about it, that it would be me that died first. Because I knew Marlene would be okay. She was so strong. I’m not.”

“Dorcas, that’s not true,” Remus said.

The silence hung heavily between them.

* * *

That night, Regulus brought Marlene, who glowed with a faint green light.

“Shouldn’t you go see Dorcas?” Sirius asked, smiling with tears in his eyes.

“What’s happening here is different,” Marlene said with a smile. “This isn’t how it usually goes.”

Sirius nodded. He’d thought as much.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Marlene asked, smiling the smile she’d often given before saying something completely preposterous: showing all her white front teeth, and her nose wrinkling up. “Dorcas and I had been talking about having a baby. After the war, when things had settled down.”

Sirius laughed. “And how were you going to manage that?”

“A donation, a turkey baster. Or failing that, modern muggle medicine,” Marlene said with a toss of her blonde feathered hair.

“A donation from whom?” he asked, though he knew.

“Don’t be daft,” Marlene said with another wide smile. “From you, you git. We decided that Remus wouldn’t do it, because of the…you know. And I didn’t want a red-headed baby, so we couldn’t ask either of the Prewetts. Not that there’s anything wrong with red hair. But Molly’s already got so many—six boys!

But I had already decided that I wanted you. You were my first choice, because we’d have a baby with Dorcas’s eyes and your hair, or with your hair and my freckles. Can you imagine? Gorgeous!”

The three of them laughed. It felt strange to laugh, with Marlene so soon gone.

“We would talk about it late at night, before falling asleep,” Marlene said softly. “What our lives would be like after the war, to help us settle down, and remember that there were so many reasons to live…

Marlene sighed. “We never decided which one of us would have the baby. Some nights, we would both have babies. Dorcas wanted to study potions. She’d always wanted to teach somewhere. Not Hogwarts. She wanted to teach somewhere smaller. We thought about going to America, to Salem, so Dorcas could study with a famous American potions mistress there. And after she’d completed her studies, we’d come home and have Rigel, if he was a boy, or Alya, if she was a girl.”

Regulus and Sirius smiled at the star names.

“Sirius,” Marlene said, her face unnaturally solemn, “Don’t let Dorcas be alone. Take her somewhere sunny, and beautiful for a little while. Tell Dumbledore to go fuck himself, and you take Remus and Dorcas somewhere nice. And when it’s quiet, you tell her about Rigel. And tell her that if she still wants him, still wants the life that she and I dreamed up, tell her she can still have it.”

Marlene’s face had grown fierce, and then she looked overwhelmed and a little frightened, just as Sirius remembered her looking when she was being sorted.

“You will, won’t you?” Marlene whispered.

Sirius nodded, knowing he was saying yes to everything.

“Thank you.”

And Marlene hugged him, and Regulus put his hand on his brother’s back, and Sirius leaned into them as much as he could, before waking up with Remus, Dorcas wedged in between them, her face wet with tears.

* * *

Everyone came for the funeral. Even Peter and Dumbledore had come for the day. Peter looked pained, and Sirius found himself watching him closely.

Peter didn’t drink, and he didn’t tell any stories at the pub after. Just listened, and listened. And Sirius narrowed his eyes, thinking how Peter ought to have had the best stories, because he and Marlene had been so close at school, confessing their girl trouble to one another, and had gone on so many Order missions together in the first year.

Sirius couldn’t help but wonder why Peter was so quiet now. Because he felt that, somehow, Peter’s silence wasn’t painful.

It was guilty.

Sirius made good on his promise, and the day after Marlene was buried, he spent a small fortune on a portkey to Martinique. He hadn’t told Dumbledore to fuck himself, but he hadn’t told him they were leaving either. He did tell James, though, who put in some falsified paperwork to show Sirius would be on a covert operation, and unreachable.

They were on the island for a week. They got drunk every night, and he and Remus took turns coaxing Dorcas to eat, and the three of them slept and ate and swam. And after a few days, Dorcas smiled, and then she cried because she’d smiled.

“Don’t cry,” Remus said, pulling Dorcas into a hug.

“Marlene would be glad you smiled,” Sirius said, hugging the two of them. Dorcas laughed, sandwiched between the two boys. And then she cried while she laughed.

Remus held her, and Sirius brought them another bottle of rum.

On their last night, after Remus had fallen asleep, snoring softly on the sofa, Sirius and Dorcas went walking on the beach, holding each other’s hand.

After a few minutes, Sirius looked up. “There’s Orion,” he said, holding Dorcas’s hand, pointing with Dorcas’s finger. “And that’s Rigel.”

Dorcas looked at Sirius in the moonlight, and she thought he’d never looked so beautiful.

“Marlene told you?” she whispered.

“Yes,” Sirius didn’t bother to say when. He smiled at Dorcas, just a small, gentle smile. “I know, and I know about America, too. If you want it, I’ll make it happen for you. Marlene would want you to have it still. We just have to live long enough.”

Dorcas stared at the stars. “Yes, we just have to live.”

Neither of them wanted to think about how much harder it would be now.

“The baby would be a Black, and I would always take care of you,” Sirius said. “I would have an heir, and maybe our name would finally mean something different.”

Dorcas squeezed his hand, as they stood quietly under the stars.

* * *

When they returned to England, Dorcas came to stay with them for a few days. She wasn’t quite ready to go back to the flat she’d shared with Marlene.

That night, after Dorcas brushed her teeth, she lingered in the hallway. While they were away, Sirius had transfigured the bed large enough to hold them all. One of them had held her every night.

“Can I sleep with you still?” she asked in a small voice.

“Of course,” Remus said. He slept in the middle, so he could spoon Dorcas, and Sirius could spoon him. Remus felt so warm, and his breath grew steady as he and Dorcas fell asleep.

Sirius knew he should fall asleep, too. But something told him this would be his last dream. He wasn’t ready to let his brother go.

Regulus looked up at Sirius and smiled, as Sirius found himself in his old room. Sirius looked at the muggle bikini-clad girls, and the photo of the Marauders he’d permanently stuck to the wall. He was surprised to see a photo of himself and Regulus, just below the other photo. They had taken it just before Sirius made the decision to leave.

“I put that there,” Regulus said with a shy smile. “It’s not permanently stuck. I’d hoped you’d come home and take it with you.”

Sirius wished he had gone home. This was the most time he’d spent with his brother since his last year at Hogwarts, and now Regulus would be going on.

“Sirius, you should know that he can’t die,” Regulus said. “Not anymore. It’s the darkest kind of magic.”

“Can’t?”

Regulus nodded slightly, and Sirius felt a cold chill steal up his back. He shivered, the back of his neck crawling.

“He needed a house elf, so I sent Kreacher. But I had ordered him to come home, and when he did, he was out of his mind, and dying. So, I helped him, and then ordered him to take me where they’d gone. I don’t know where it is, but there’s a cave and inside there’s a lake, with a little island. That’s where he hid it, the horcrux.”

“Horcrux?”

“Yes. I know we have a book about it, I read it when I was 14. It’s not in the library. It’s under the floorboards under my bed,” Regulus looked slightly disgusted. “After I’d read the book, I never wanted anyone to read what was in it again. But you should.

Murder damages our souls, Sirius. That’s why it’s such a terrible thing. But it is possible to murder, and take the damaged part of your soul and conceal it so that you cheat death. To be honest, I think that’s part of why I was able to come back for so long. Because my last bit of unfinished business is such a serious thing….”

Regulus looked pensive, and Sirius looked angry. Not at Regulus, no, never at his brother. Just this whole absurd situation—he was learning that their enemy was immortal. Is that what the fuck this meant?

Sirius ran his hands through his hair, and began to pace. Regulus laid a calming hand on his arm so he could continue. Sirius felt his brother’s touch. There was no barrier now. Sirius noticed that his brother looked whole, and real.

“I took the Horcrux, and gave it to Kreacher, ordering him to go home, and he wasn’t to talk about it to our parents, but he has it. You have to go home and help him destroy it.”

“But if you told Kreacher not to tell anyone…”

“No, I told him not to tell our parents,” Regulus said pointedly.

“ _ Putain de merde _ ,” Sirius said through gritted teeth. “Why are you dead, and he’s still out there?”

Regulus shook his head. “Death is what waits for all of us. It’s what makes every breath precious. The knowledge that joy ends is what makes joy so unbearably sweet.”

They both blinked back tears. “Don’t be sad for me, Sirius. As I died, I understood my life had been worth something, as short as it was. And I’m here because I want my death to be worth something, too. I had to come find you, just in case.”

“And I have to go and find you,” Sirius said, his voice breaking.

Regulus shook his head. “Don’t. I don’t know how that place is protected. Don’t risk it, Sirius. There is so much at stake now. I’m…at peace where I am. Please don’t, Sirius. Maybe after…”

Sirius crumpled to the floor, and Regulus sat beside him. “I love you so much, Regulus,” Sirius said, wrapping his arms around his brother. “I love you so much, and I’m so sorry we wasted so much time.”

“This life wasn’t easy on us,  _ mon frère _ . The next one will be better.”

They smiled at each other, thinking on the endless conversations they’d sat through when Alphard had come to dinner, and he had pontificated on life after death. He and their father had often argued over metaphysics. Sirius suspected that for all their barbed speeches, they enjoyed it, and one another. Alphard had been an Unspeakable, and their father might have been, if it had been proper for him to do anything as plebeian as hold a job. Alphard had never cared about proper.

“I have until dawn,” Regulus said, and smiled.

The two boys spent the rest of their hours talking, and remembering, and loving each other, and when Sirius woke up, he felt an incredible sense of peace.

* * *

Just before the full moon, Dorcas decided to take Emmeline up on her offer to stay with her in the country. She wanted to get away from London. Before she left, Sirius had hugged her, and reminded her of their conversation.

“Come whenever you need us,” Sirius said.

Dorcas nodded, and gave him a slight smile. “I will.”

And Sirius smiled back, both of them thinking of a baby with his dark hair, and her eyes.

Sirius, James and Remus had gone to James’s family’s hunting estate in Lancashire for the full moon. Peter had long since begged off, saying he wasn’t of much use nowadays. At the time, Sirius had frowned at this, but kept his own counsel about it. Now, he thought about it, and the ways in which Peter had long since separated himself from them came into focus.

Although James would rather they stayed home, Lily insisted that she and Harry would be safe, locked in the groundskeeper’s cabin while the wolf ran with his pack. They had escaped Voldemort twice, which already seemed miraculous enough. She didn’t want to risk a third time, and she didn’t want to be apart from James if she could help it.

When Remus and Sirius arrived, James answered the door. His wand somewhere in the house.

Sirius noticed his empty hands, and forced James into a headlock.

“You’ve got to be more careful about your wand,” Sirius admonished.

“I knew it was you,” James protested, squirming to get away. He poked Sirius in the ribs, and Sirius released his hold. “Who else is going to turn up anyway?”

Lily smiled at the three of them, and alerted them to Harry’s presence in the bassinet. Sometimes, she just liked to have him near, to watch him sleep. His little chest rising and falling as he lay on his back, his little fists raised by his head.

“He looks like a little prizefighter, doesn’t he?” James smiled. “Champion of the world.”

When James said things like this, Lily could only smile, and wait for the tightness in her chest to ease. She didn’t want Harry to be any kind of fighter.

Sirius stayed with James and Harry in the sitting room, and Remus went with Lily into the kitchen.

“I’m making something to eat so everyone will be well-fed later,” Lily said. “I spend a lot of time in the kitchen these days. Do you know how to make Beef Wellington without magic? Because I do.”

Remus gave her a small smile. She usually tried so hard to be cheerful around James. But now, in the kitchen, she looked small and sad, and very tired.

“Thanks for everything, Lily,” Remus said.

She shrugged off his concern. “Of course.”

Remus helped Lily finish cooking, and James and Sirius made their way to the kitchen once Harry was awake, though Lily had her suspicions that Sirius might have woken him.

After their meal, the three Marauders went deep into the forest, and Lily magicked the cabin locked tight, and waited with Harry.

The night went well, and Sirius settled Remus in the bedroom they shared upstairs.

“ _ Mon loulou _ , I am going to see my father,” Sirius whispered. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t tell James.”

“Be good, I love you,” Remus said sleepily.

Sirius kissed his forehead and went downstairs.

James was already in the kitchen making bacon and eggs. Sirius helped, while Lily fed Harry. After they ate, Sirius asked James if he and Lily could watch Remus while he recovered. Sirius said he had something he had to do.

James assumed it was Order business, and Sirius didn’t correct him. He didn’t want to tell James because he didn’t want to be talked out of it. He had waited long enough.

Sirius went home and changed into a set of black velvet wizard robes, trimmed with silver that had been hidden in the back of his closet. His mother had sent them for his 17th birthday, along with a silver pocket watch that had belonged to her father. They were very nice robes, as they were charmed to fit him still.

His hair was nicely brushed, though he refused to pull it back. His shoes were highly polished. He looked every inch a smarmy pureblood wizard.

When he reached Grimmauld Place, Sirius took a deep breath, and unclenched his jaw. He wouldn’t be the one to argue first, he thought, steeling himself as he reached for the door knob, which appeared to him as it always had.

Sirius was taken aback momentarily, but remembered what Regulus had said. He straightened himself, and felt his cold imperiousness returning to him with an unexpected ease.

Sirius entered the house, and Kreacher eyed him warily. Sirius asked to be announced.

Soon, Walberga Black made her way silently down the stairs. She looked exactly like she did the day he’d left. Sirius thought that maybe she was even wearing the same dress.

“ _ Maman _ ,” Sirius said quietly.

Walberga nodded slightly to acknowledge Sirius, not moving from the foot of the staircase. The air bristled with magic.

“ _ Je veux voir Papa _ ,” Sirius said. He waited for his mother to argue, to fight with him. But instead, she turned and beckoned him to follow her upstairs to his father’s rooms.

The house was so still that Sirius could hear the clock tick in the parlor, and the fire in the grate seemed to crackle too loudly. The house seemed sad, and darker than usual.

“ _ Papa _ ,” Sirius said, as he entered the room.

Orion Black lay on his pillows, looking almost frail. It gave Sirius pause. His mother had resumed her seat opposite the chair that had appeared for Sirius. She picked up her book, sneaking glances at the pair of them from behind the pair of pince-nez on the bridge of her nose.

Sirius looked at his parents, lingering on his mother and realizing she was the one who gave him and Regulus their silver eyes, and their nose. He thought about what his brother had said, and wondered who they might have been if things had even been just slightly different.

Orion had been 45 when he’d married. Walberga had only been 20. Now she was 45.

As Orion drifted in and out of sleep, Sirius thanked his lucky stars that neither of his parents had studied legilimency.

Sirius thought all manner of outlandish things as he sat there in silence: he wondered if his mother might finally live, after his father’s death. Would she like to get drunk with him and the Prewetts? He thought idly of Dorcas, and wondered if she’d teach his mother to swear. And what his mother might think of his werewolf lover, and his plans for an out-of-wedlock child with a lesbian witch. He couldn’t help smirking. He quickly looked down, his hair covering his face for a few moments.

They sat in silence for almost three hours. Sirius found himself reciting transfiguration spells, but had to stop when he accidentally transfigured his father’s valet stand into a bust of Queen Elizabeth II. His mother had quirked her eyebrow, looking vaguely amused.

He transfigured it back hastily, and then remembered the photo. He summoned it silently, and caught it in his hand, after it slipped into the room from under the door. He looked at it for a brief moment, and tucked it into his breast pocket with a smile. Walberga glanced at him curiously, but said nothing.

At noon, they ate together, and Walberga fed her husband soup with a tender care that Sirius would never have thought possible.

After lunch, Sirius announced that he would come again tomorrow afternoon, that he would come every day until…

Walberga closed her eyes with a slight grimace at the thought of Orion’s death, and Orion lifted his eyes to look at Sirius directly.

“ _ Mon fils _ ,” Orion said faintly, and as he acknowledged his son, the magic was sealed on his will, which would leave everything to Sirius upon his death.

Sirius was surprised to find tears in his eyes at the words his father spoke. His father closed his eyes again to rest, and Walberga walked her son downstairs.

“Thank you for coming, Sirius,” she said, as they reached the door.

Sirius wasn’t sure what to say. He was fairly certain she had never thanked him for anything in his life. Instead of questioning it, Sirius bowed his head and kissed her cheek. Something he hadn’t dared to do since he was a very small child.

“ _ A demain, Maman _ ,” he said softly, and she nodded and closed the door gently behind him.

Sirius walked home slowly, not sure what to make of what had just lived through.

He changed into a t-shirt and jeans, and took the motorbike back to Lancashire, which would make the journey in half the time, to give his thoughts a chance to settle.

James opened the door, again without his wand.

“I’m going to use a permanent sticking charm to attach your wand to your hand,” Sirius said, reaching out swiftly and bringing James’s wrist up behind his back.

“Ow, uncle!” James yelled. “Uncle! Stop!”

Remus was wrapped in a blanket, holding Harry on the couch. “Hello, love. How was it?”

“How was what?” James asked, narrowing his eyes.

Sirius threw himself onto the couch, and put his head in Remus’s lap and kissed Harry’s little foot. Harry smiled, showing off his two tiny teeth. Then, as Remus rubbed his back with his free hand, Sirius told his friends exactly where he’d been.

“I’m going to see them until the end,” he said. “It feels right to be there for this. For Regulus’s sake, and my own.”

Sirius then told his friends, finally, about his dreams, and about the Horcrux.

“We should tell Dumbledore,” James said almost immediately after Sirius had finished his story.

“Yes,” Sirius said. “I’ll get the book tomorrow, though I’m certain Dumbledore already knows what it is, and what it means. I won’t speak to Kreacher until after…”

James summoned his wand from wherever it was, and sent a Patronus to Dumbledore with his code that meant he had an urgent matter to discuss. Lily shivered, and tucked her feet under James’s thigh.

“I don’t think my mother should stay in that house alone,” Sirius said. He glanced up at Remus, who shrugged.

“I’m happy wherever you are,” Remus said.

“I don’t think anyone should stay in that house,” James said.

“Actually,” Sirius said, “I…I think we should all go live there.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” Lily said. “I wouldn’t take Harry there if my life depended on it.”

“Well, it might,” Sirius said.

“The house is extremely well-protected, even if it’s mostly dark magic,” Sirius said. “We wouldn’t even need a fidelius charm, which would be good if there’s a spy. Just a little blood on the front door and the house will let you in and protect you always.”

James shivered. Blood magic always made him queasy; and of course, James knew it was more complicated than a “little bit of blood.”

Sirius knew from experience that guests had to be explicitly invited into the house, not unlike the magic that wards off vampires. Whenever the person wanted their guest to leave, the guest began to feel nauseous, and the feeling grew worse and worse until they fled.

Once Alphard had come, and decided he’d overstay his welcome. He awoke in his home the next morning covered in blood boils, with a high fever, and his sister sitting by his bedside.

“I told you not to,” Walberga had said, before taking a cold cloth to his brow.

Sirius was roused from thought by Remus suddenly laughing.

“Wait. The spy—it’s none of you lot, is it?” Remus asked with a grin.

“Don’t look at us,” James said, squeezing Lily to him.

“Us either,” Remus said. “Sirius and I have already divulged all our secrets to one another.”

“Us, too,” Lily said.

They all smiled furtively at one another and then spent the rest of the day filling each other in on what they’d done for the Order over the past few months.

They talked over who might be the spy, but that topic felt perilous, poisonous.

After a while, James and Sirius took the motorcycle into the village to add to the leftovers.

Meanwhile, Remus and Lily scrounged around for snacks.

Remus broke out his last bar of Honeyduke’s chocolate, which he’d been saving for a special occasion.

Lily looked serious for a moment. “You know, Dumbledore suggested after our last encounter with You Know Who that we might have to go into hiding. When James reported the incident, he said he felt he was being targeted especially by him and Bellatrix. That’s why his injuries were so bad. I was so busy fighting off Avery that I didn’t notice until I saw James fall. Then I got us out of there.”

Remus frowned. He knew how poorly James and Sirius would cope without each other.

“James wouldn’t do well in hiding,” Remus said. “Maybe it would be a good idea to go to Grimmauld Place. At least they’d be together.”

Lily sighed and looked thoughtful.

The boys came back with things for a salad, some bags of crisps, bakery rolls and a chocolate cake. Remus gave Sirius a grateful smile. He knew the cake had been Sirius’s idea.

Sirius came up behind Remus and enveloped him in a hug. They shared a moment, while Lily went to get Harry’s bassinet, as the tiny boy had finally fallen asleep, and James began to make sandwiches.

“What do you really think about moving again?” Sirius asked quietly.

““I think the Black family library would be an interesting place to spend some time,” Remus said with a small smile. “Do you really want to?”

“I don’t know. My mother seemed…different,” Sirius said, his chin resting on Remus’s shoulder. “I don’t want her there alone. She doesn’t have any family left—Alphard died.  _ Grandmére  _ and  _ Grandpére  _ died when we were little. She shouldn’t be alone now. Especially after I tell her about Regulus…”

“You didn’t tell your parents?”

“How can I?”

Sirius sighed, and Remus hugged him with one arm as he accepted his plate from James.

They all sat down to eat, and Sirius brought up Grimmauld Place again while he ate from his own bag of salt and vinegar crisps.

“Not to get too ahead of myself, but I think it would be nice to have as many Order people in the house as we could get.”

“How do you even know you’ll get the house?” James interjected. “Your father could leave it to one of your terrible cousins.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “No. They’re all girls.”

“Narcissa had a boy,” Lily said. She knew because she’d followed Narcissa to Birmingham one morning. She’d taken the baby out, looking more nervous than usual. She’d taken the train like a muggle. Lily realized she’d gone to see Andromeda, her sister and Sirius’s cousin. Lily had only met Andromeda once, but Sirius liked her.

“Dumbledore wants us to go to Godric’s Hollow,” James said with a sigh. Godric’s Hollow had its charms, but it was a quiet little town, with only a handful of shops on the high street, and no pub—which meant no dancing, or a chance of a night out.

“What about Peter?” Remus asked.

“Remus…” Sirius sounded agitated.

“How long are you going to fight with him?”

“Remus, I think he…”

“Why would you say that?” Remus interrupted, not wanting Sirius to finish his sentence.

“Just a feeling I got at Marlene’s funeral. He didn’t talk at all. He didn’t come to sit with Dorcas. He just…he’s different.”

“We’re all different.”

Sirius hummed, and Remus leaned back into his chest, scrubbing his face with his hands. He didn’t want to think about Peter being a spy. He didn’t want to think about anyone being a spy. But Dumbledore thought there was a spy, and he was never wrong.

James tensed thinking about this new information. Lily picked Harry back up carefully, so as not to wake him.

“Let’s talk about this later,” Remus said, and Sirius kissed him in agreement.

“I’m very proud of you. I know it can’t have been easy going to that house,” James said.

“To tell you the truth, it wasn’t terrible,” Sirius said thoughtfully. “I wonder if Regulus went to see them, too. He didn’t come every night. I wish I’d asked. I wish I had more time with him.”

The friends grew silent, but James and Sirius could never be grave for long. Soon they had Lily and Remus laughing quietly, though their laughter was tainted with sadness for Regulus, and maybe Peter, too.

None of them wanted to think about one of their best friends betraying them. Until Sirius had said it, or tried to say it out loud, it hadn’t occurred to any of them that one of them could be the spy.

Dumbledore came in the evening, and Sirius and James went with him into another room to discuss what Sirius knew.

Dumbledore listened, his long fingers drawn together under his chin.

“Thank you, Sirius. I’d appreciate that book you spoke of, and anything else you might find,” Dumbledore said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Then he left as quietly as he’d come.

* * *

Sirius went to Grimmauld Place every day for a week. One morning, very early, Kreacher appeared.

“Master Sirius, your mother said to come.”

“Thank you, Kreacher. I’ll be there shortly. You may go,” Sirius said. Kreacher disappeared, and Sirius dressed quickly.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Remus asked, sitting up.

“No, better not.”

Remus looked pained, and kissed Sirius before he left. “I love you.”

Sirius smiled. “I love you.”

When Sirius arrived, Orion’s breathing was labored. The doctor was there, looking grim. His mother’s face was curiously blank.

Sirius took a deep breath, and was surprised to feel sadness welling up in his heart. He had spent so much time hating this man, this man who had made him and Regulus so scared and miserable when they were younger.

Sirius kissed his father’s forehead before sitting down, and Orion seemed less agitated. His mother looked at him curiously, but said nothing. They said so little during Sirius’s visits.

If Orion was sorry for the way he treated his sons, he never said so out loud. He died peacefully, and for the first time in his life, Sirius saw Walberga cry.

He stood up, and as he crossed the floor towards his mother, he felt the magic of the house pass through him, like static electricity. It was his.

He rested his hand gently on her shoulder. She stiffened slightly at Sirius’s touch before leaning fully into her son, crying a few moments more. Then, suddenly, she laughed. Sirius looked at his mother in surprise, as she dried her eyes with her handkerchief.

“I was just thinking I was so glad that Cursa isn’t alive anymore,” his mother said. “Can you imagine? She would’ve blamed me for his death, accused me of poisoning him or something equally distasteful.”

Sirius didn’t know what to say. His mother had never been so forthright with him before.

“I know Regulus is gone,” his mother said suddenly.

Sirius’s face tightened.

“I’m sorry, Sirius,” she said, “for the loss of your brother, and for so…so many other things.”

She stood up, and smoothed her skirts. “I’m going to care for your father now. He didn’t want the fuss of a funeral, so we won’t have one. It will just be me at the mausoleum, and someone to perform the rites. And you, if you would like to come. Do you have anyone you want to invite?”

She looked unsure—unsure that he wanted to go, unsure she should ask.

“I would like to invite James, and his wife,” he said tentatively. “And Remus.”

Walberga nodded. She knew those names from his childhood. She called to Kreacher, and ordered him to bring her the things she needed to care for Orion one last time.

“I’m going to sit with your father for the customary three days. Come, if you want to. If you can.”

Sirius nodded.

“Sirius…” Walberga looked close to tears again, but she stood straight and tall, and for the first time in his life it really settled into his mind that his mother had had her own hopes and dreams, and maybe being married to a wizard more than twice her age hadn’t been one of them.

“You were just like me in so many ways it hurt,” Walberga said quietly. “I thought I had to break you, like a horse, so that you could be happy here, because I was so seldom happy in this house. It’s not an excuse, and I knew it wasn’t right because you fought so hard to just be yourself…”

She paused, and flashed on her two little boys whom she’d been pressured to give over to the care of nannies and tutors, to the house elves who cooked and cleaned for them. But she had done little things for them in secret, as much as she could get away with. Her letters to them at Hogwarts were perfunctory things, read over by Orion before they were sent. But she was the one who ordered Kreacher to send them their weekly packages of sweets and other little things from home. She had charmed their trunks to always have clean socks and pants that fit their growing bodies. And she was the one who had placed the two-way mirrors in Sirius’s trunk before he left for his first year, hoping that he would make a friend, a confidant.

The mirrors had been hers—she had charmed them herself and used them to speak to Alphard when he’d been away at school. Walberga’s family had given her over to tutors who taught her how to run a household, and then sent her to a finishing school to learn to charm a husband. Her parents held the old-fashioned idea that most branches of magic weren’t proper for ladies to learn or practice. Alphard had read to her late at night from his books. After her marriage, Alphard smuggled her his old textbooks charmed to look like medieval translations of runic works if anyone but herself picked them up. As Orion had absolutely no interest in that, he never asked her about what she was reading.

Orion really never asked her to discuss anything at all.

Walberga’s boys didn’t know, never knew, how she stole into the nursery, and later, into their rooms at 3 a.m. to watch them sleep. She had begun to do that from the day Sirius had been born. Neither boy knew about their sister, Adhara, who had died so small and alone in her crib only three days after her birth. She’d been born exactly nine months after Walberga had married. Adhara—with her head full of dark hair, and perfectly-shaped ears—had been too small, too unimportant, to have her name engraved on a slab in the mausoleum, or woven into the family tapestry. But Walberga knew she was there, represented by a small blue harebell flower to the left of her own name.

Walberga had wanted her baby in a bassinet by the bed. But Orion had said no. It had taken her a long time to forgive him for that, not until Sirius was born a little more than three years later.

“I knew you would leave,” she said, “and in my secret heart, I was relieved when you did. I hoped you’d never come back. Not because I didn’t love you, but because I wanted you to finally be happy.”

Sirius felt his throat constrict with emotion. His mother continued: “Orion’s politics killed your brother. My own weakness estranged you from me.”

Sirius shook his head. “Not anymore,  _ Maman _ .”

Walberga closed her eyes, and the tears streamed silently down her face. Sirius embraced her, and for the first time in her life, she could hug her son without being told that it would make him weak, or being punished for it afterwards.

* * *

Remus stood in front of the mirror, smoothing a set of Alphard’s robes that had been tailored to fit him. They were a dark brown, which Remus wasn’t sure were entirely appropriate, but Sirius liked them, as they brought out the rich highlights of Remus’s hair. Sirius had asked for these to be finished first, when he’d sent off the newer robes to the tailor.

James and Lily were waiting for them in the parlor, having just arrived. James was wearing a nice set of navy-blue robes, and Lily had chosen to wear a dark purple Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress that James had bought her. Lily loved it because it was so soft and comfortable, and she could breastfeed Harry easily if he was hungry. She carried a navy pashmina shawl to cover Harry with if needed. She didn’t want to scandalize Sirius’s mother.

“We’re going to be late,” Sirius said, smiling and Remus and kissing his temple.

They had to take a black cab because of the baby. Lily didn’t trust Apparition; nor did she want to put Harry through the sooty Floo network.

Over the past three days, Sirius had gone to sit with his mother while his father was laid out in the parlor. Remus had gone with him the second and third day. Walberga was not what he expected. She had smiled at him, and ever the gentlelady, had paid him a compliment each time she saw him and spoke to him politely about the weather, and had steered their conversation beautifully toward the subject of books, and poetry in particular. She knew from Sirius that Remus constantly read.

Sirius had told her a lot of things as they sat with Orion that first day. At first, he’d been tentative.

“Sirius,” she had said, interrupting his measured sentences. “I’ve lived under your father’s thumb all my life. I’m finally free of my cage. Tell me what your world is like.”

Sirius took in his mother, who somehow reminded him so much of Regulus, who had looked at him just as eagerly when he’d come home from Hogwarts that first Christmas.

So, he told her all about Hogwarts, and how he’d excelled at Transfiguration, surpassing even his beloved McGonagall’s knowledge. He told her about all the mischief her mirrors had helped manage, and he told her about becoming an Animagus. He told her the reason why. And if he expected his mother to be appalled at the idea that her son kept company with a werewolf, she surprised him yet again.

“Your great-great-great uncle Pollux was a werewolf,” she said. “He’d been bitten as a young man as he made his herbology studies in the Black Forest. We might have his diary in the library. I wonder if there’s anything useful there.”

As Walberga and Remus spoke, Sirius learned his father recited Baudelaire poems to her, inspired by her blue-black hair.

Sirius also learned that his father had received a report on his mother’s daily comings and goings—what she ate, who she spoke to, and what the subject of their conversation was, how she occupied her time, and how much money she’d spent—when Kreacher appeared and had given him the parchment on his first night as master of the house.

Sirius asked Kreacher to instead tell him if his mother was happy, and what he might do if she wasn’t.

“But, beyond that, my mother may do what she likes,” Sirius said, and Kreacher gave a little bow. “Kreacher, tell me, does my mother need anything? Does she want anything?”

“She might like fresh flowers, Master Sirius,” Kreacher said, and told him how she had brought fresh cut flowers home once from a shop in Diagon Alley when she was first married. “Your father told her not to waste her money, and charmed the flowers everlasting, sir. She’s had the same flowers by her bedside for 25 years.”

Sirius grimaced. “Throw them out, Kreacher,” he ordered. “Bring her something new every few days. Always colorful. Fragrant, if possible. Let’s start with marigolds, for grief. But for a week or two only; after that, bring her whatever is the most beautiful. Fill this house with flowers.”

Walberga squeezed her son’s hand and thanked him. The marigolds were bright and the yellow was so cheerful compared to the dull greys and greens that permeated the house décor.

As he sat across from her in the parlor, Sirius had taken in his mother’s wardrobe, and her old-fashioned leather shoes, and when they’d gone to call at the undertakers, he took in her gloves worn thin, faded, and held together mostly by magic, and her hat, as old as Sirius, with its sad little feather.

He took in the dark wallpaper of the parlor, and the silk brocade curtains that were probably original to the house.

After the internment, Sirius took them to lunch, and got his mother tipsy on Veuve Clicquot.

“ _ Maman _ , I’m taking you and Lily to Harrod’s. What good is having an enchanted wallet that gives you exactly what you need if you don’t open it once in a while.”

Walberga smiled widely, genuinely. She had admired Lily’s dress, the softness of the jersey. What a relief it would be, to wear one after the wasp waists of her youth that Orion had preferred.

At lunch, along with her meal, Walberga ate an entire basket of bread. The perceptive waiter brought her more butter before she could ask. She had often gone to bed hungry, as Orion had restricted her portions so that she would maintain her figure.

She sighed, satiated at last.

Sirius glanced at Remus. Remus smiled slyly at him, his eyes narrow, mocking the ease with which Sirius had become lord of the manor. Sirius had quit his job.

Remus had already teased him privately.

“Get used to it, Remus,” Sirius had said, pressing kisses to his neck and jaw, his hands pinning Remus’s arms down to the bed. “What’s the point of all this money if it doesn’t buy us a little relief?”

After lunch, Remus went back to the house to read. Kreacher already knew to follow Remus’s orders, though Remus was loath to give any. James went with him, so he and Harry could take a nap.

When they came home later that afternoon, Lily went to check in on Harry and James, who were asleep in the downstairs sitting room. After Walberga gave her bags to Kreacher to put away, she paused a moment to look at the Potters. She didn’t have words to express what it meant to have such a young, loving little family in the house.

She followed Sirius up the stairs, and they found Remus tucked away in the library, a book in hand, a cup of cold tea forgotten on the little side table.

Walberga lit a fire in the grate, and the lamp that was behind Remus. Remus gave her a grateful little smile, and she smiled graciously back. She called Kreacher and asked for more tea, and the star anise biscuits they had usually had at Yuletide.

Sirius watched them, and felt…overwhelmed.

“ _ Maman _ , it’s nice…this is nice,” Sirius said softly, sitting next to her on the long velvet sofa that he and Regulus used to pretend was a pirate ship.

Walberga smiled. “When your brother came to me, and told me he’d gone, he said he hoped I would be happy, and that he knew I loved him.”

“And do you love me,  _ Maman _ ?” Sirius asked, his voice small.

She pulled her tall, broad son into a hug, and he arranged himself on the sofa, his head in her lap, and she ran her fingers through his hair. She hadn’t done this since before his third birthday, not that she expected Sirius to remember.

Sirius’s magic had been very strong, and Orion declared that at three, Sirius was old enough to leave the nursery and begin his magical education. By this time, Walberga knew there was no point in arguing with her husband.

“I loved you in ways you never knew,” she said softly. “But I’m so, so happy to love you like this now.”

And for the first time in his life, Sirius cried tears of joy.

* * *

That night, Sirius and Remus got ready for bed in Sirius’s old room, the bed charmed big enough to fit them both. Walberga had had Kreacher move her things into what had been the nursery. It was the sunniest room in the house, and at night, the moonlight filtered in soft and sweet.

In the morning, she would move the walls to create a little sewing and reading nook for herself, and enlarge the closet to fit her new things. Sirius had already told her that he’d sent an owl to Gringotts to have her added to the accounts. His father had given his mother a small household allowance that remained unchanged since 1955.

She still asked Sirius’s permission to order new furniture and wall paper for her new room. He gave it to her wholeheartedly, and asked if she’d like Alphard’s French antiques.

When Sirius told his mother that he and Remus would be sharing a room, she only asked him if he wouldn’t like one of the larger ones.

Remus looked around Sirius’s childhood room and smiled at the photos of the young Marauders, and the Wimbourne Wasps posters—Ludo Bagman swatting his beater’s bat wildly. He looked sideways at the muggle girls in bikinis.

“Are these really stuck on with a permanent sticking charm?”

“Yes, sorry,” Sirius said with a grin. “I guess I can take them down now.”

Sirius made a fiddly movement with his wand, and the posters fell. He vanished them with a wave of his hand, saying, “Fare thee well, Gunilla and Brunhilde.”

Remus laughed. “Is this anything you would have dreamed possible?”

“No,” Sirius said. “It’s better. Can you imagine what my mother might have become, if she’d been left alone with her grief?”

Remus rested his head on Sirius’s shoulder, hugging him from behind. Sirius turned around and wrapped him in a tender hug.

“I feel like so much has changed in the past few weeks,” Sirius said.

“Do you think it will make a difference?” Remus asked.

“I think it’s already making a difference, just look at where we are,” Sirius said. “Remus, what do you want to do when all this is over?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the war won’t last forever. And once it ends, how do we want our lives to be?”

“I haven’t thought about it.”

“I think we should,” Sirius smiled at him. “Regulus said that the beauty of joy is to know that it ends. We’ll end. Hopefully not too soon, not like Marlene…”

Sirius paused, and Remus wiped a tear from his eye, and kissed the apple of his cheek.

“Did you know Marlene and Dorcas wanted to have a baby?”

“Really?”

“Yes, with my hair and cheekbones.”

Remus smiled. “I bet you were a beautiful baby. Walberga said she’d show me pictures.”

“I talked to Dorcas. We still might, you know.”

Remus gave a genuinely startled laugh. “A baby?”

Sirius hummed. “We just have to live first.”

Remus sat down on the bed, and leaned back on his elbows. “Do you know, I never let myself think about the future, until I was with you.”

Sirius stopped fussing with his things, and turned to look at Remus.

“It was enough to think about the next full moon, and when we were at Hogwarts, maybe about what our next adventure would be. But I never thought about growing old, or ambitions, because as I got older, it became more and more obvious that those things weren’t for werewolves. We aren’t allowed to hold wizarding jobs, and most of us don’t think about having families of our own.”

“That’s so un-fucking-fair, Remus,” Sirius said, sitting down beside him.

“I know. But even though I’m an outcast, I’m here. I’m with you, and you’re my home.”

Sirius leaned down to kiss Remus gently on the mouth. “And you’re mine.”

Remus smiled, and kissed Sirius again before continuing. “I don’t know how this will end, but I’m happy, really happy, to have you, and all our friends.”

“Can we start talking about the future?” Sirius asked.

“I’d really like that.” Remus smiled.

He didn’t have to be a Seer to know where this night would go. As for the future, only time would tell. But they both felt that things were different now.

Sirius would talk with Kreacher in the morning. But for now, there was Remus. Warm and soft under his hands. They smiled at each other, as Sirius turned off the lights, a soft glow coming in from the street lamp.

“I never once dreamed this in my wildest 16-year-old dreams,” Sirius whispered. “I’d never have believed you’d be here, in this house, in my bed.”

Remus smiled and leaned in to kiss him. “You want to give me a practical demonstration of some of those wild dreams?”

They laughed quietly together, as Sirius’s hands inched up Remus’s shirt, and brought it up over his head.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't spell Walberga with a u. Sorry, not sorry.  
> Vivienne Westwood SEX [shirt](https://cvltnation.com/beat-bite-get-fuck/) that I imagine some muggle mother gave away as soon as she could.
> 
> *  
>  **Mod Note**
> 
> Please vote on this work! [VOTING FORM](https://forms.gle/R12NqVxpuqF16aTXA)


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